Our Stories, Our Platform, Our Power

Welcome to Ability Speaks Magazine
This is where our community comes alive.
Ability Speaks Magazine is a bold, groundbreaking platform created by and for disabled people. Here, everyday voices step forward as writers and reporters, proudly sharing their stories and perspectives on sports, entertainment, culture, and everything that matters to us.
This is our space to build confidence, own our narratives, and speak our truth with power and authenticity. This is more than a magazine. This is a movement.
Welcome to Ability Speaks.
We are bursting with excitement to launch the very first issue of Ability Speaks Magazine with a radiant spotlight on Mia Ferjulian!
This joyful, talented, and unstoppable actress and model with cerebral palsy is pure inspiration! From making her television debut on the hit ABC show Speechless to now being proudly represented by Zuri Talent Agency, Mia is chasing her dreams with the biggest smile and the strongest heart.
A proud neurodivergent actress, she’s professionally trained in scene study, on-camera work, and improv at Last Act Studio and Saddleback College. Whether she’s dropping acting reels, sharing her journey, or just being her bright, authentic self on her YouTube channel, Mia radiates confidence, happiness, and unstoppable positivity!
Her story is full of light, heart, and pure joy and it’s exactly the kind of empowering voice we’re celebrating.
Get ready to smile big. Mia is here, and she’s just getting started!
Finding My Voice: A Neurodivergent Actress’s Journey
By Mia Ferjulian
June 22, 2026
I have always been in love with stories.
Even as a little girl, I did not just want to watch them. I wanted to feel them, live inside them, and help bring them to life. That love eventually led me to acting. It became so much more than a hobby. Acting gave me confidence, purpose, and a voice when I sometimes struggled to find one.
Being a neurodivergent actress in this industry has been both beautiful and incredibly challenging. My brain processes the world differently. The lights can feel overwhelming, the sounds too loud, and the pace of this business does not always understand how I move through the world. There were moments I felt invisible and wondered if there was space for someone like me.
I did not want to be seen only as the disabled actress or the neurodivergent girl. I wanted to be seen as a real actor with depth, dreams, and something meaningful to offer. That is why finding the right representation changed everything for me. Being signed with Leticia Asher at Zuri Agency’s Adaptive Division gave me someone who truly understood my vision. For the first time, I felt supported, believed in, and seen for everything I am.
Representation matters to me with every part of my heart. I want young neurodivergent and disabled kids to look at a screen and see someone who thinks, feels, and dreams like they do. I want them to believe they can be the main character of their own story, not just a side note.
My journey began when I was sixteen. Booking my first acting job in North Hollywood felt like a dream come true. I also fell in love with theater in high school at Three Peace Studios, where I performed in Seussical and Annie. Landing a co-star role on ABC’s Speechless was one of the most magical moments of my life. Playing Savannah taught me so much about being professional on a real set.
Along the way, I have learned some of the hardest and most beautiful lessons. I have learned that timing in this industry rarely looks the way you expect. I have learned patience. I have learned how important it is to advocate for myself and my needs. Every no, every waiting period, and every challenge has shaped me into who I am.
Creating content on social media has also been such a gift. It has helped me become more comfortable in front of the camera and more confident expressing who I am. It is another creative outlet that feeds my soul and supports my acting dreams.
Success to me is not about fame or outside validation. Success is about growth. It is about staying authentic. It is about showing up consistently and building a career step by step with an open heart.
When things get difficult, I return to the reason I started. I remind myself that every experience, even the slow ones, is growing me into the artist I am meant to become.
My dream project is a story with real emotional depth, filled with complex, layered characters that challenge how people see neurodivergent and disabled lives. A story that stays with you long after the credits roll.
If I could speak to my younger self today, I would say: Do not rush. Do not compare your timeline to anyone else’s. Everything is unfolding exactly when it is supposed to. Trust the process. Trust yourself.
I decided to share my story because I know what it feels like to search for someone who understands. If my words can make even one neurodivergent or disabled person feel seen, less alone, or brave enough to keep going, then every challenge has been worth it.
One day I hope to share the screen with artists like Renée Rapp and the Bella Twins, women who have built careers while staying beautifully and unapologetically themselves.
This is my story. This is my heart on the page.
And this is only the beginning.




By Wayed Kabir
June 22, 2026
Some people are simply born with a servant’s heart. Larry Landauer is one of those rare people.
From the time he was only eight years old, doing good turns through the Boy Scouts, visiting people in convalescent homes and helping his neighbors, Larry has always found quiet joy in lifting others up. That gentle and giving spirit has never left him.
He went on to become an Eagle Scout and volunteered at the Special Olympics, where standing on the sidelines helping athletes with disabilities first lit a fire in his heart, a fire that still burns to this day.
That calling led him to earn both his bachelor’s and master’s degrees in social work. In 1988, he began his journey at the Regional Center of Orange County as a service coordinator. Nearly four decades later, he continues to serve as Executive Director, still guided by the same heart he had as a young boy.
I first met Larry in 2012 at an Area Board meeting. The Area Board is an independent advocacy group where self-advocates, families, and community members come together to protect the rights of people with developmental disabilities. From the very first moment I sat down next to him, Larry treated me like a friend. No titles, no walls, just real conversation and a warm smile.
For the past three years, I have served as a Peer Advocate at RCOC. In this role, I help make sure the voices of individuals with developmental disabilities are heard loud and clear.
What has always touched me most about Larry is how deeply he values every single voice in the room. Even when he was a service coordinator and later a lead, he strongly supported the Resource Groups. He made sure peer advocates were not only present, but truly heard. He believed our lived experience mattered and that our voices should help shape policy and services.
That same heart is still present today. Larry leads with humility, respect, and genuine care. He believes every person served by RCOC deserves to be truly valued, heard, and supported according to their own Individual Program Plan. To him, no one is just a case number. Every individual is a valued and important member of our community.
Larry is not only a tireless advocate here in Orange County, he also travels to Sacramento to fight for the people we serve. He meets with legislators at the state capitol to protect funding and ensure services are not cut. His advocacy reaches from Orange County all the way to Sacramento and back, always putting the person served first.
Even as Executive Director, he still eats lunch in the break room with his staff every day. For nearly ten years now, we’ve had our own little tradition of meeting at our favorite stand restaurant in Irvine. We stand there cracking jokes and talking sports, me cheering on my Knicks while he roots for his Lakers, Dodgers, and LA Kings.
Larry is the true definition of a servant leader. He shows up when it matters. Whether one of his team members is speaking at a conference or I am giving a presentation, he makes time to be there, sitting quietly in the audience, supporting with his presence.
Today, we finally get to turn the spotlight back on you.
Larry, from that eight-year-old boy doing good turns, to the man who has dedicated nearly 40 years to serving others, you have never stopped showing up with heart, class, and love.
Thank you for treating me like a friend from day one. Thank you for the stand restaurant runs, the sports talks, and for always believing in me. Thank you for listening to every voice, especially the ones that are often overlooked. Thank you for being the kind of leader who makes everyone around you feel seen, valued, and cared for.
You have a beautiful heart, Larry. We are truly blessed to have you.
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By Wayed Kabir
Ability Beast Talk is my podcast where I have real, raw conversations about life, resilience, and chasing dreams. So when I slid into Teri Fruichantie’s Instagram DMs in 2022 asking her to come on the show, I honestly didn’t expect a reply.
She replied in two minutes.
I damn near dropped my phone. I was like, “Wait… did the hockey cheerleader just say yes to my little podcast?”
From the moment she jumped on, Teri came in with zero filter. She looked Hollywood dead in the eye and said what a lot of people are too scared to say out loud: “A lot of these studios and production companies don’t pay actors fairly or on time.” She said it so boldly I was just sitting there thinking, “Oh wow… she really just went there!”
But that’s Teri. She doesn’t do safe. She doesn’t do fake. She does real — even when real is messy.
Before she was writing, directing, and breaking the internet, she was an LA Kings Ice Crew cheerleader. This woman went from shaking pom-poms on the ice at Staples Center to shaking up the entire film industry. The character development is actually wild.
Teri first took over the internet with her short film Dorito Dream Girl, which has racked up over 1.3 billion views on YouTube. One point three billion! That’s not a video, that’s a cultural phenomenon. She then created her cult web series Hollywood Is Hard, a hilarious and brutally honest look at the struggle of trying to make it in LA.
As a director, she helmed the stoner comedy 4/20, and she’s currently developing her latest project, BRODUCERS.
If you follow her on Instagram at @frutron, you already know the vibe — she’s constantly sharing other people’s funny videos, wild stories, and random chaos. She has zero chill when it comes to humor. Dark humor, silly humor, prank humor, inappropriate humor — she loves it all and doesn’t care who it offends. That’s part of what makes her so magnetic. She’s just… herself. Unapologetically.
What really got me during our conversation was how much she cared about my story too. Halfway through the interview, she flipped the script and started asking me just as many questions as I was asking her. She was genuinely curious about my journey and the disability awareness work I do.
Teri’s been through some dark chapters, including battles with depression, but this woman is a fighter. She’s still out here laughing loud, creating fearlessly, and refusing to dim her personality for anyone.
Her journey is the kind that inspires people like Mia Ferjulian — a talented neurodivergent actress just starting out. When Mia sees someone like Teri being bold, hilarious, and completely herself, I know it gives her that “If she can do it, so can I” energy.
Teri Fruichantie isn’t just talented.
She’s a whole experience.
And I’m very lucky to know her. ne like Teri out here being bold, hilarious, and 100% real, I know it lights a fire in her that says, “If she can do it her way… so can I.”
Teri Fruichantie isn’t just talented.
She’s a whole damn vibe.
And I’m lucky to know her.

By Wayed Kabir
Okay, let’s be honest. If you think every day program is just a quiet place where people sit around, you have clearly never been to Integrity House in Santa Ana.
This place is alive! It is loud, it is fun, and it has serious personality.
Since 1997, Integrity House has been one of the coolest Clubhouses in Orange County. Founded by Cathy DeMello and the late Sam Durbin, this spot has been going strong for almost 30 years. Cathy is still the Executive Director, and Program Director Javier Bautista is the guy making sure the good vibes never stop.
Here is what makes it different: the members actually run the place! They are in charge of the Kitchen, Maintenance, Creative Design, Media, and Admissions units. They cook, clean, create, plan events, and keep everything running like pros.
They have a Café for snacks and serious gossip, a Games Room for when things get competitive, a Theater, a Gym, and even a Boutique. And when they are feeling extra, the whole crew heads out on community outings like it is a field trip for grown-ups.
For many years, Integrity House has also been the team that helps throw the Regional Center of Orange County’s Spotlight Awards. They have been running that big night like absolute professionals, year after year.
Now let’s talk about some superstars.
Amy Jessee has been part of Integrity House since 2007. She teaches classes there every week and also serves as a Board Member for the Regional Center of Orange County. When Amy is around, you know it is about to get good.
I have given two presentations there myself and both times the members showed out. First, I teamed up with Leah Saitz, the Person-Centered Thinking Coordinator at the Regional Center. Then I came back and taught a presentation on “How to Start a Podcast.” I showed them an AI-animated video I created and even animated pictures of the people sitting in the audience. Their faces lit up! One guy came straight up to me super excited, telling me all about how much he loves fixing classic cars. The questions would not stop. They were locked in and loving every second.
Here is the truth: Integrity House is fun, welcoming, and genuinely empowering. It is a place where you build real friendships, learn new skills, laugh until your stomach hurts, and get to be exactly who you are.
If you are a parent looking for the right day program, or if you are an individual who wants to actually look forward to going somewhere every day, Integrity House might just be the perfect fit.
This is not just a program.
This is where the cool kids go.
.

By Wayed Kabir
Some people walk into your life so quietly, you don’t realize at first that they’ve just changed it forever.
Nine years ago, I met Miguel Gomez at LA Fitness on Barranca Parkway in Irvine. It started as nothing more than casual conversation between two guys working out. But that ordinary moment quietly opened the door to one of the most meaningful friendships I’ve ever known.
Born on August 20, 1985, in Cali, Colombia, and raised in Houston, Texas, Miguel first broke through as the rapper Aztek Escobar, becoming the very first artist signed to Jay-Z’s Roc-La-Familia label. His acting career ignited in 2014 when he was cast as Gus Elizalde on FX’s hit series The Strain, a role he carried with raw power for all four seasons. That same year, he stood toe-to-toe with Jake Gyllenhaal in Southpaw. His path continued through Megan Leavey, SMILF, and a major recurring role as Special Agent Ivan Ortiz on FBI: Most Wanted.
But the Miguel the world sees on screen is only one chapter.
The Miguel I know is the one who would roast me mercilessly at lunch. “Double meat? Come on, bro — get the quadruple! It’s for those muscles!” He’s the one who laughed at every single one of my terrible jokes like they were the funniest things he’d ever heard. He’s the one who, without ever making a big deal about it, quietly paid for an entire year of personal training because he wanted me to get stronger and more independent.
We’d spend hours talking about life, family, spirituality, and the teachings of Ram Dass. Those conversations felt sacred — deep, honest, and filled with laughter. We’d also spend afternoons cracking up over the silliest stuff with my trainer Renee, joking endlessly until our stomachs hurt.
I’ll never forget the image that will always stay with me: seeing Miguel sitting in the backseat of the family car at the shopping center, playing and laughing with his kids while his wife drove. In that simple moment, everything about him became clear. His heart has always belonged first and foremost to his family. That love radiates from him in everything he does.
Miguel eventually moved back to Texas, but the distance has never changed how I feel. He is, and always will be, one of my best friends. In my heart and in my mind, Miguel Gomez will always be a superstar.
He’s living proof that you can rise in Hollywood without ever losing your soul — a big-hearted, soft-spoken, family-first man who never forgot where he came from.
And whenever I think of him, I’m reminded of that powerful line from The Shawshank Redemption: “Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things.” Even though he’s not in Shawshank, I still hold onto the hope that one day I’ll get to sit across from my friend again and laugh like we used to.
Miguel Gomez isn’t just a talented actor.
He’s a beautiful soul.
And I’m forever grateful our paths crossed in that gym.
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By Wayed Kabir
I came into this world at just two pounds and three ounces.
Born premature in 1985 at Elmhurst Hospital in New York, I was so tiny the doctors didn’t think I would survive. I spent months in the NICU fighting for every single breath. From the very beginning, life tested me. But I fought back.
My love for the New York Knicks started with my big brother Parwez. He’s five years older than me, and I wanted to be just like him more than anything in this world. He had the biggest heart I’ve ever known. In kindergarten, when my wheelchair wouldn’t move, he was right there pushing me like my personal chauffeur. Legend.
So when he fell in love with the Knicks, I jumped right on the bandwagon. Those nights watching games with him were pure magic. Lights off, TV glowing, two brothers screaming at the screen like we were the ones on the court.
I was nine years old living in California when I watched the 1994 NBA Finals against the Houston Rockets with my brother. We were losing our minds on the couch. When Patrick Ewing missed that heartbreaking layup in Game 6, I swear our living room needed a funeral. We were absolutely crushed.
A year later, in 1995, I was ten years old when Reggie Miller dropped eight points in nine seconds against the Knicks. I sat there in complete disbelief thinking, “Did that really just happen?!” That moment hurt so bad, but it somehow made me love the Knicks even more.
My neighborhood friends in Irvine roasted me daily for being a Knicks fan. “The Knicks suck! Patrick Ewing is old and washed!” They were cracking jokes left and right. I just laughed with them and kept rocking my orange and blue like it was high fashion. Their jokes never touched me.
Through painful Achilles tendon surgeries, through asthma attacks that landed me in the hospital, and through all the doubters, I kept the same energy. The Knicks taught me how to laugh through the hard times and keep swinging.
I told everybody with a straight face, “One day I’m going to work for the New York Knicks.” People probably thought I was crazy, but I was dead serious.
At 23, I came heartbreakingly close to an internship with the Anaheim Arsenal, but late night transportation issues killed that dream.
While interning with the girls basketball team at Mater Dei High School in Santa Ana, Mike Brown—then head coach of the Lakers—actually sat down with me, looked at my scouting reports, gave me real advice, invited me to Lakers practice, and treated me like an old friend.
Later, my mentor David Meltzer believed in me so much that he flew me across the country to New Jersey, paid for my hotel for ten days, and got me an interview with the New Jersey Devils. He looked me in the eyes and said with real emotion, “I’m living my dream through you.”
In 2022, my friend Farbod Esnaashari got me courtside for a Knicks versus Clippers game. That night was unbelievable. I met Allan Houston, Julius Randle, Mike Breen, and had a real conversation with Scott Perry. They treated me like I belonged.
That same never give up attitude pushed me to earn my bachelor’s degree from Vanguard University and my master’s degree from the University of Redlands. It drove me to become a Peer Advocate at the Regional Center of Orange County, write my children’s book The Adventures of Wheels and Princess, start Ability Beast Talk, and now launch Ability Speaks Magazine.
And now in 2026, the New York Knicks are finally champions, coached by my old friend Mike Brown. Everything came full circle.
My dream didn’t die. It just evolved. I may not be sitting in the Knicks front office, but I feel like I’m still part of the team every single day.
The moral of the story is simple: Never let anyone tell you what’s realistic. Protect your dream. Laugh at the doubters. Love every moment, even the hard ones. Whether you have cerebral palsy or any challenge, keep that fire. Parents, believe in your child. The support is out there. Sometimes all they need is one person who believes in them.
Stay positive, stay silly, and never stop swinging.

From Four to Forty One: My Pride Quantum Power Chair, My DeLorean, and 37 Years of Rolling Forward
By Wayed Kabir, Ability Speaks Magazine
I was born in 1985 in New York City at just two pounds and three ounces, a certified Back to the Future baby. Marty McFly had the DeLorean. I got a Pride Quantum Mobility power wheelchair. Between the two of us, I’m not saying I got the better ride but I’m also not saying I didn’t.
Born prematurely after my parents fled Afghanistan in 1978, doctors weren’t exactly handing out guarantees. I was diagnosed with spastic cerebral palsy, but I decided I had other plans.
I’ve been driving power wheelchairs since I was four years old. That’s 37 years of real world chaos. I’ve gotten stuck in ditches, launched off curbs like a failed stuntman, tipped over in earlier chairs, and survived being hit by cars twice in my current Pride Quantum Mobility Q6 Edge Z. That chair is basically a tank on wheels. It took both impacts without bending or tipping.
And yes, my chair has always rocked Knicks orange and blue, even during the darkest years of Knicks basketball. Some fans quit. My chair never did.
Speaking of which, last night while writing this, the New York Knicks finally won the NBA Championship. After decades of agony, my orange and blue heart can finally heal. Just like my chair never gave up on me, I never gave up on them.
One of the greatest blessings in my life was my mentor Chuck Wilson, an ATP and former CEO of Designing Mobility at Numotion. Chuck truly cared about young kids in wheelchairs. I used to go with my dad to visit him at the wheelchair clinic. He would spend all the time in the world adjusting and perfecting my seating and positioning until it felt just right. He didn’t just fix equipment, he saw the person.
That same spirit lives in the Quantum chairs. The TRU Balance 4 power positioning system lets me tilt all the way back and become a rolling gym. I work out with resistance bands and light dumbbells while rolling down the street. If you ever see me on Culver Street leaned all the way back lifting weights, don’t call the fire department. I’m just getting my workout in.
That tilt function gives me critical pressure relief, keeps my muscles loose, and has been a major key to my health and independence. This chair hasn’t just moved me around. It helped me earn my Bachelor’s degree from Vanguard University and my Master’s degree from the University of Redlands. It’s been with me as I wrote books, coached basketball at Mater Dei, served as a peer advocate at the Regional Center of Orange County for the last three years, and now launch Ability Speaks Magazine.
This magazine is going to be different. We’re disabled writers who refuse to be boxed in. We’re here to talk about sports, tech, culture, lifestyle, and life in general from our real perspective, with honesty, creativity, and plenty of personality.
To every parent whose child just got prescribed a power wheelchair, listen to me. Get the best ATP you can find, someone who actually cares and listens. Proper positioning is everything. It affects comfort, health, and independence. Don’t settle. Advocate hard for what your child truly needs.
I haven’t tested the new Edge 4 yet, but after 37 years of rolling through this life together, I’m really excited to see what the next chapter of my mechanical best friend can do.
Because this chair isn’t just equipment to me.
It’s a part of my soul.
And we’re nowhere near done writing this story yet.

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